The Gender-Males

When skies slowly turns blue I will be polishing my son’s shoe You know, it rained awfully last afternoon, But sun rose soon Oh what a day? To my man, I’ll have nothing to say I was to dry his shirt which I just washed But the overwhelming droplets that recently gushed spoilt my day In a bad way;

He is an angry man Who drives a caravan, Now what will I say? For, he might be on his way. His arrogance once killed my unborn kid, And now I see the cigarette he just lit, Oh! He’s on my door. He will abuse me, call me a wh*re! Because his shirt was washed and wet He’ll now abuse, compare me with the women he just met;

Oh! What a life? He never considered me his wife, Now I want someone to call my own, Or just want to go away from home, I want a child to ease my fright, I don’t know why I can’t fight for my right. It again rained and it was dark And here I was skulked to hear him bark I ready with my dagger opened the door, Without a sound I killed, leaving him on the floor

Now I live in tranquility and my womb fiddles with joy After 9 months I gave birth to a baby boy. Who’s now wedded a woman from the East; And looking for love I faded in the mist, I am no longer a wife or a mother I now wish that I had a brother. Such is my fate That is filled with hate, Unthought-of it when vermilion was tinged on my forehead; I sadly give up and consider them dead A husband, a son, their gender, males! With their memories, my every attempt to live, fails.

Poet’s Note:An elegy written on mother’s day. My typical thoughts based on some Indian mothers who face such predicaments in their life.